


A Hard Day's Work

by DenmarkStreetGutterClub



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub
Summary: Strike and Robin are not as sneaky as they think they are...
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	A Hard Day's Work

**Author's Note:**

> Written by two Denmark Street Discord members while under the influence. No Strellacott shippers were harmed in the making of this fic.

“Alone at last,” Strike hummed, pulling Robin close to him as they heard Pat’s footsteps fading down the stairs. “Mmm, I missed you today,” he murmured before pressing a chaste kiss against her lips.

“Missed you too,” she responded, squeezing his bicep in return. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him. “Got some good intel on Sternum Bush,” Robin informed him.

“Yeah?” he responded, chuckling and nuzzling his nose against her cheek. “Like what?”

“Well, for starters, he has _far_ too many buttons undone on his shirt, and he’s entirely too hairy.” 

“Oh, is that it?” 

“Not at all. He’s also fucking his secretary.”

“That _is_ good,” he replied, kissing her again. “Think we’re about ready to close the case?”

“Think so, maybe just a few more days. I want to make sure there’s a pattern and that it wasn’t just a one-time thing and hopefully get some pictures.”

“Well I’ll leave it up to you, you’re the expert after all,” he said, placing soft kisses at the place where her collarbone met her neck.

“Mmm, I learned from the best. A right grumpy bastard,” she laughed, reaching a hand down to squeeze his arse, her fingers dipping into his waistband and grazing his skin.

“You’re a tease, Ellacott,” he responded, continuing to kiss her neck.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Robin said, cheekily. 

Strike raised an eyebrow at her, daring to pursue his line of questioning. “Oh?” 

“Is there something you’d like to see, Mr. Strike?” she teased. “You know I’m more than happy to oblige. Should we head upstairs?”

“I was thinking we could stay here?” Strike asked, hopefully. 

“Cormoran,” she chided. “We said no _activities_ in the office.”

He reasoned with her, “Everyone’s gone, it’s Friday evening, surely no one will come in tonight...” 

She paused for a moment, considering his request before she relented. “Alright, fine. Just this once. Don’t expect me to be this willing every time.” She shoved him playfully to emphasize her point.

“Understood,” he responded, grinning as he pulled her down to him, claiming her lips with his own. Strike growled as Robin reached toward the zip of his trousers, cupping him through the fabric. She deftly pulled at his zipper, reaching beneath his boxers and freeing his cock. 

She continued to kiss him, nipping at his lower lip and running her tongue over the scar on his upper lip. He moaned into the kiss, feeling her tongue slip up and over his lips and into his mouth. She tasted like a fine wine, and he couldn’t get enough of her as he drank her in.

It wasn’t long before his trousers and boxers hit the floor. He pulled up her skirt and began grinding against her. He could feel just how wet she was for him and threw his head back against his chair. “ _Fuck, Robin,”_ he murmured, his hands grasping at her waist, where her skirt was bunched. He moaned, wanting to feel even more of her. He dipped his fingers into her knickers and grazed her silken folds, teasing across the sensitive nub of her clit before extracting his hand once more.

He gently cupped his hand against her cheek and raised her face to look him in the eyes. “I want your mouth,” he demanded, his voice rough and gravelly. It was Robin’s turn to raise an eyebrow at Strike, though she didn’t deny him. In fact, she did the opposite and Strike took great delight in the fact that she was willing to give him exactly what he wanted. 

Before he knew it, Robin was on her knees before him, practically beneath his desk. She held his rigid length in her hand, her face poised above him, ready to take him deep into her mouth. She stroked him slowly, but confidently, before wrapping her lips around him and devouring his solid length. 

Strike swore and his eyes practically rolled back in his head. She was so warm and wet and _perfect._ He hissed as she pulled back and the cool air of the office hit the wet skin of his shaft. He felt himself grow impossibly harder as Robin once again sank her mouth downward and built up a steady rhythm. 

He felt himself begin to thrust up into her mouth, reveling in the feel of her lips, tongue, and teeth against him, caressing him, and coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. Strike was so preoccupied that he barely registered the slam of the door of the outer office, but Robin’s keen ears picked up on it immediately. She paused, gently pulling back from his cock, turning her ear toward the door to listen. 

“Did you hear that?” she murmured quietly. 

“Hear wha-?”

_Slam._

“Fuck!” Robin whispered harshly. “Someone’s here!”

“Fucking Christ,” Strike swore. Robin’s lips made contact with his shaft once more and she gently tugged him forward, slipping under his desk. Strike moved his chair as close to the desk as possible in an effort to hide his naked lower-half and his woman on her knees. 

Strike made every attempt to appear busy and settled upon bringing his computer to life, to make it seem that he was deep in research, rather than deep in the hot, wet chasm of his partner’s mouth. 

“Hey, Boss!” Barclay called, after slamming the door to the outer office. “I’ve got ma expense reports.”

He heard a muttered “Fuck” coming from the inner office and grinned.

“Whit are ye still doin’ here this late?” Barclay asked, making his way down the short hallway.

Strike grunted slightly as the Scot entered his inner office. “Have very imp _…mmm_ important work to do.” His voice had cracked slightly.

Robin’s tongue was thoroughly distracting him, as it rubbed lower and lower along his shaft. She had engulfed most of his length and her nose was nearly touching his pubic bone. She extended her tongue and licked his balls, the head of his cock gently bumping at the back of her throat.

It took Strike a moment to remember how to form words. “You have your reports?”

“Yeah, where dae ye want me tae leave thaim?”

“Pat’s desk,” Strike grunted. He didn’t give a fuck about Barclay or his bloody reports. All he could focus on was the wet heat of Robin’s delectable mouth. 

Her head bobbed up to the tip of his cock, her tongue swirling in delicious circles. Her tongue flicked at the very tip of him, into his opening, and he barely stifled a gasp. His fist clenched on the desk as he tried desperately to maintain control, lest Barclay realize what was happening. 

Robin sucked him into her mouth, _hard_ , and he groaned under his breath. She pulled her mouth off him with a sloppy pop and he hurried to cover the sound by shuffling some papers on his desk. 

To Strike’s dismay, Barclay did not take his short answer as a dismissal, but rather sat in the chair opposite the detective. 

“So A was thinkin’ we might try followin’ Sternum Bush’s secretary an aw, what dae ye think?”

Robin’s tongue circled the head of Strike’s cock before her mouth sunk back over his length, her tongue rubbing delightfully on the underside of the head.

“Mmm,” he grunted, “yeah, that’s a great idea. I’ll talk… talk to Robin… about it.” It was getting increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything other than the pleasure Robin was giving him. He could almost feel her smile against his cock. She was now teasing him, by adding the jolting scrape of her teeth along his length. 

“Speakin’ o’ Robin, A was thinkin' o gettin' her somethin’ special for Christmas this year. Ye know, somethin’ that says what a great boss she is an that A appreciate her friendship. Whit dae ye think she would like?” Sam smirked at Strike, taking full advantage of the opportunity to tease his boss a bit.

“I… I don’t know,” Strike ground out, hoping to get rid of Sam as soon as possible. 

He nonchalantly dropped a hand to his lap, trying to wordlessly ask Robin to stop, but she seemed to be enjoying torturing him. Sweat was starting to break out on his upper lip, and it was getting harder to keep his face from scrunching in pleasure. If Barclay didn’t leave soon, he just might get to see his boss’s “o” face.

Robin’s head continued to bob delightfully, alternating with her talented tongue as it swirled and teased at the head of his cock. She sucked his cock into her mouth once more, taking him in as far as she could. Strike’s hand in his lap moved into her hair, pressing her face into his flesh. How badly he wanted to fuck up into her hot and ready mouth, but he resisted. 

Soon Robin had engulfed his full length, her lips pressed against his pelvis. She had overestimated her abilities, or perhaps had underestimated his length, and gagged audibly as she pulled back. Barclay’s lips twitched at the sound, his eyes dropping to the desktop as Strike hurried to try to cover the sound with a cough he was sure wasn’t convincing. 

Barclay’s eyes landed on Strike’s neck and the detective wondered if his employee could see the flush creeping over his skin, the telltale sign of his imminent orgasm.

Barclay stood from his chair. “Well, I’ll leave ye tae it then.”

His foot swiftly kicked out, nudging Robin’s, which had been peeking out from under the desk. “Bye, Robin,” he teased, a wicked grin stretched across his face as he turned to leave.

Robin jumped, startled, and banged her head on the underside of the desk. “Ow, bugger!” she exclaimed, then hurriedly hushed herself. 

Strike opened his mouth, to say what, he didn’t know, but all that came out was a grunt and muttered oath. He looked down at Robin, who was massaging her head as he heard the outer office door close.

“Shit, sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Robin grunted. “Now, where were we?” she practically purred as she resumed her previous ministrations. Robin once again brought her mouth over Strike’s rigid length and slid her lips against him, taking him deep. It didn’t take long for Strike’s hips to buck as he wove his fingers into her hair. With only a few thrusts, he spilled into her mouth, thrusting his head hard against the back of his chair. He released a sharp groan as he came, the head of his cock nudging at the back of her throat, as she gulped down every last drop of his seed. He murmured a string of curses and her name, over and over until he was left sated. He collapsed further into his chair and closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he came back to himself, he pulled Robin up toward him. She rose from her position on the floor and swiped at her mouth. Strike could taste himself on her lips as he kissed her chastely. 

“Now it’s your turn,” he said, cheekily, kissing her forehead. “Let’s go upstairs?” he offered.

“Yes, _please,”_ Robin agreed, still mildly embarrassed that they’d been caught in the act by their employee.

“I think you owe me at least… two mind-blowing orgasms for that. Maybe three. And for God’s sake, give Sam the shittiest surveillance schedule for at least a month.”

“You got it,” Strike chuckled.

With that, they locked the office and headed up the stairs, hand-in-hand.


End file.
